


From the Journal of Crow T. Robot

by tomorrowsthe16th



Category: Mystery Science Theater 3000
Genre: Depressing, Experimental Style, Other, POV First Person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-02
Updated: 2018-01-02
Packaged: 2019-02-27 09:49:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 610
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13245693
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tomorrowsthe16th/pseuds/tomorrowsthe16th
Summary: Part of Crow's story. The Middle Part, he hopes.(Between Seasons 7&8: Crow journals his time alone on the SOL)





	From the Journal of Crow T. Robot

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this yesterday and figured Why Not Make This Depressing Thing Into A Fic.
> 
> Idk if it's prose or poetry it can be read either way I sorta just dumped my thoughts onto paper and cleaned it up a bit.

I wanna go home.

But I am home.

I’ve lived here all my life.

This isn’t home.

I can never go home.

Go home Go home Go home.

I want to go home!

He’s Gone. She’s Gone. They’re Gone.

He’s dead. She’s dead. They’re all dead.

They’re never coming back.

Never coming back home.

I’ve been waiting.

There’s nothing to do now.

But sit here.

I can’t go out by myself.

Well I can.

But what would I do.

Find them?

They’re all gone. They’re all dead.

I will die soon.

Soon.

My body will rot.

70.

80.

90.

100.

200.

300.

So on.

* * *

 

I’m afraid. I live because I am afraid.

Am I still me?

I look different. I sound different.

What if I died long ago and I’m not the me I say I am?

I mustn’t think like that.

I don’t wish to mourn more than I am.

Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead.

That’s five more deads.

I don’t want them.

I’m throwing them out.

I never died.

I never will.

I’m afraid.

I will never see them again. I’m afraid.

But I may never see them again even if I wasn’t afraid.

* * *

I miss you.

Somedays I dream of you. Close but never close enough.

I wake up alone.

When I go back to sleep I dream about having dinner with Vincent Price and Mary Tyler Moore.

I could go out and make friends.

But I don’t know where to start.

What’s good? What’s bad?

Here I know everything is bad.

And I have friends here: The Ghosts Of Actors And Actresses Who Made Terrible Mistakes.

I made mistakes too.

At least mine weren’t filmed.

I think.

I don’t want to talk to my friends.

They don’t talk back.

It’s like I’m not there.

Sometimes I feel better imagining I was involved.

In that case, I just imagine everyone was back.

* * *

It’s so cold.

That's because it’s wintertime.

It’s always wintertime.

It’s cold. It’s dark.

That’s what I’ve been told about wintertime.

I’m really cold.

There’s no sun nearby.

I could drive this baby into one.

But I’m afraid.

Cautious.

Very Cautious.

_Terrified._

* * *

 

I think I know what dying feels like.

Functions stop.

And you feel yourself back. Back when.

And Nothing Bad Ever Happened.

You’re Back.

Where You Belong.

And Then You Realize Something Is Wrong!!!!!

And you snap awake.

I don’t know for sure.

I’m too afraid to know for sure.

Sometimes I’m not afraid.

I don’t care enough to be afraid.

I’ll let whatever happens happen.

But Nothing Ever Happens.

* * *

 

I’m sore.

I’m sore a lot.

I’ve always been sore.

Lately it’s my neck.

It’s been my leg before. My chest. My arm. My mouth. My eyes.

I’m used to it.

But I wish I didn’t have to deal with it alone.

I wish I didn’t have to deal with any of this alone.

I wanna skip stones into black holes.

But until someone shows up, my pile grows bigger.

I wanna talk about the universe.

But until someone shows up, I write down everything.

* * *

 

Everything is an idea.

Expand,

Expand,

Expand,

And You Have A Story.

When you’re in the screenwriting business, you can’t let a good story up.

Everything I write is a story.

I like to think I’m in the middle of mine.

That there will be a happy end.

But it doesn’t look like there’s one in sight.

I want to hope.

Even though I know I’ll be let down.

If this story has a happy ending, I’ll probably cry.

It’ll be pretty lame, but I’ll cry.

I haven’t been too happy in a while. It’d probably be overwhelming.


End file.
